Red Rope Vertigo
by Japeth
Summary: After 4 years of thinking, I've unleashed this story upon the world. It follows the journey of a young man who is tested to the limits of his body, mind, and soul in a fantasy world I created myself.
1. Prologue

The snow did well to hide the corpses underneath. With no one left to look upon them, the snow acted to take upon the task of making them disappear completely, trying its best to pile on drift after drift to erase the thought of them from anyone's mind. Unfortunately for it, one person had managed to uncover them, although, not seeming to know what she was doing, or at least not comprehending the austerity of the bodies lining the street. A little girl, no more then four at the time, right in the midst of the decaying snow piles, was playing with some small oddly shaped rocks. She was so preoccupied, she didn't notice the stranger approaching her until his shadow was almost upon her. She looked up to see the identity of this new person, squinting her eyes against the morning sun that had placed itself so conveniently behind the man's head.

The man called out in an almost soothing tone, as if he had experienced too much in his life time, but didn't want to let anyone think he was getting tired of it all.

"Hey there." A slight pause following, "Say, where are you parents?"

The girl surveyed the heaps for a quick second and finally lifted her tiny arm to point out two bodies that had recently been excavated from the field of snow. A small smile crept out of the corner of the man's mouth as he took her hand in his and helped her up off the cold, hard ground.

"Com'on, I'll take you home."

She took one last look at the piles, considering if her parents would ever wake up, or if she would ever see them again. This man is nice, she thought to herself, I'll see them again tomorrow, they haven't moved for awhile now.

The man tugged on her arm, signaling it was time to move on. They continued on down the street, turning right at the end and leaving the view of the unburied graveyard. The only thing remaining, were the footprints they left.

Once again, the snow resumed its task of erasing the memories.


	2. Chapter 1part 1

Jerran wandered back into the fortress for the second time that day. This time it was to confirm the status of a local supply depot before a raid. Since the war, all stores of any kind had been closed...or to be more precise, had been destroyed. The only ones created after those were under strict government control. This wasn't a government camp, and so no "official" stores existed here. There were still private ownerships, but because of their separation, were not sent supplies. Because of this situation, the people in the camp often found themselves badly in need of more food, clothes, and tools quite often. The only source for these rare things were in government guarded buildings. The Army, or so often simply called PAR, for the police army resistance, didn't get along well with the Kent, and didn't let them acquire supplies unless they paid an absurd sum of money or other rare commodities. The people in the camp obviously couldn't afford this and was never able to negotiate any type of trades. This was the purpose of the strike forces which Jerran put together. It was his responsibility to organize, scout out, and finally lead the group that he picked out to get the supplies from the supply depots. The guards could either participate willingly, or unwillingly, it was their choice, either way, Jerran was going to get the supplies that they coveted so dearly. To this day, none had surrendered.

As Jerran heard the loud steel doors of the Kent fortress (which was what they called themselves) slam shut behind him, he refocused his thoughts from the primal survival instincts that he used outside, to the civilized leader he was on the inside. Jerran was often considered the unofficial "leader" of the camp, although he did little to actually bring order. He merely thought of himself as the head of the militia, nothing more. Most people took an easy liking to Jerran because of his calm attitude in the face of danger and his unbiased viewpoints in almost everything. He was an extremely logical person. He took the facts in, weighed the situation and made his judgment. Because of his straightforward way of thinking, more then a few people had been left behind on the raids. No one showed anger or contempt towards him because of this, they realized what had to be done, and that Jerran saw the whole picture for the entire camp, not just a single life.

How many times did he have to leave people behind because he knew it wouldn't be worth it? Jerran had lost count over the last 4 years at his position in this harsh world of survival. He knew the Kent didn't hate him for it, and he didn't despise himself for it either. He had often wondered how he could weigh the life of a single person against the camp's. Many nights of sleep had been lost over this thought in the beginning, but as he continued on with the killing and surviving day after day, he began to become lost in his own feelings. After awhile, he had torn his mind apart so many different ways on the inside that he had begun to stop feeling remorse or pity anymore. He didn't know what to feel. He turned into a robot, a hard empty bottle of no emotion. He wasn't heartless, he knew when mercy should be dealt, but if a child had to be sacrificed to save the camp, he would be the first to do it. He was a fighter based on instinct, simply trying to survive. Nothing else mattered. No one could defeat the horde of walking dead and the strange monsters that roamed the streets. Even Jerran couldn't survive long on the streets with an entire squad. Only recently though, had people started to realize this. Jerran was no longer called upon in civil cases, only strictly war plans, and since those almost never happened because of the lack of militia, he found most of his time spent either sitting in his small house, or planning the raids.

The Kent fortress, so aptly named Sanctum, was busy this morning, as always at this time of day. People had many things to do, and no one ever knew when the fortress might come under attack, and their help needed. They had to be ready to defend the camp, everyone including women, children, and the elderly; all people who could hold a gun were put on the walls. The Kents couldn't afford to only allow the men to fight, since their camp was so small already, such a futile attempt would surely doom the town.

Jerran quickly made his way towards his house, where he and his squad had agreed to meet. People waved and called out to him, but he ignored them. Much larger things were on the fighter's mind. The task ahead was not going to be an easy one; the supply depot was guarded more heavily then usual. Because of the constant replies of "no" for supplies from the guards, the Kents had been forced to take alternative measures, and Jerran and his crew had stopped bothering trying to persuade the guards. Whatever they wanted, it was always something they didn't have, or couldn't afford to lose.

He came around a corner to the view of his house and the rest of his trusted squad. He smiled in anticipation of the fight he knew would so surely come.

The troupe also eagerly awaited his arrival, for they too enjoyed a good fight, even if it was killing living brethren. The Kents tried to stay away from killing humans, as they should have united years ago against a common foe, but distain against the arrogant PAR units had forced them to do what they had to at times. The PAR disliked killing Kents just as much so, but still held a grudge of jealousy against them because of the unique powers their meditation granted them. That was what mainly set the groups apart. The PAR was a government controlled military organization which had been the conclusion of a merging of all the forms of the different branches of the army, navy, and air force during the war. The Kents were small bits and pieces of the leftover civilians who had banded together during the war as well, but refused to be pushed around by the unstable government controlling the PAR. There had already been three changes in power in the head of this government in just the four years of the war. There was no way the Kents were going to play into this political power struggle of people who had been underground in bunkers ever since the beginning of the war. In reality, the Kents trusted the monsters outside more then they did the PAR.

Jerran slowed down as he approached his squad and started talking even before he had stopped.

"You're all ready I take it?"

They all nodded in agreement. They were always ready for the raids, they had to be. The entire town counted on them.

"Alright then, you know how this works. There's a little added security, for why, I have no idea, but it's not enough to change anything. Just do what we always do and there shouldn't be a problem."

Jerran turned around, motioning them to move out. The first to follow, and probably the closest to Jerran, was Gerald, a slightly muscular man at 6 feet that enjoyed the MP5. He had short dark blonde hair, and very prominent facial features which set him apart. Following him was Jameson, quite tall at 6'3" wielding a halberd. Jameson was a little tanner then Gerald, and had black hair and piercing black eyes. Although some of the group used melee weapons because of the magical enchantments on them, they all carried a small sidearm just in case. Most of the time they were fighting zombies anyways, which a melee weapon could dispatch of much quicker then a gun. Next up was the only female of the group, Lira, of an average 5'6", thin and lean, with medium length brown hair up in a ponytail, and who was also quite adept with twin khukuri's. The last two to follow were Fernando, a dark skinned Hispanic, with his shotgun and Tsubasa, an oriental who was surprisingly strong and bulky for his race, holding his precious katana, which was also the weapon of choice for Jerran. 

The squad quickly made their way out of town.


	3. Chapter 1part 2

Several miles away from Sanctum was a different group of people with the same intentions in mind. In an alleyway shielded from the sun a form darted towards a pile of rubble at the end. A pair of young eyes peered over, taking in all they could. The figure turned around and motioned, and two other people appeared at his side. All three huddled together contemplating their next move.

"Do you see that Sarik?" said one of them to the first. "They have an extra armor"

The one known as Sarik turned towards him.

"You think I don't notice that?" He half whispered, sounding a little irritated. "We still have to get food. We aren't going to survive much longer if we don't get some now."

The other two shifted their weight nervously. They both loved Sarik very much as a friend, but they were starting to trust his judgment on this mission.

"We either die out there from starvation or by bullets from the PAR. At least we can strike a deal with the living."

With that, Sarik turned around and started to off moving through the random piles of rubble towards the supply depot they had been eyeing. All three of the young men had been friends for the last 4 years during the war, and surviving had brought a friendship unlike any other. They were a family now; their old ones no longer existed, killed off by starvation, disease, the war, or the monsters. Living in the last several years had been hard on all of them, but they managed to get through. Time after time, Sarik had proven the most wise of the group, and the other two easily followed him after having shown it so many times.

Sarik moved ahead of his two friends, Brett and Dier, hoping to get a little time to think to himself on the way over. He wasn't sure how long he could do this, leading his last two friends into danger everyday was taking its toll. 'How long will they follow me?' he wondered to himself. He couldn't stop them from dying. He knew one day, one of them would, and he didn't know how he was going to deal with it. It would be his fault for leading them in, the pain of such a thing would be unbearable for him. Neither of them would blame him, and he hated that even more, someone had to be at fault.

He glanced back again as they closed for the last hundred yards. They were still there, following him dutifully, as he knew they would. His mouth started into a sorrowful smile, but he stopped and reminded himself that he would deal with things as they came. Now was not the time for thinking of what could or would happen; now it was time for them to go into action.

The best way the group had found out to get in was to simply sneak in. Haggling proved useless, as would fighting, since the only weapons the boys carried were daggers and simple bludgeoning weapons they could pick up.

The supply depot was up against a row of other buildings, which made it easier for the group to sneak up from the side or back. In front of the depot was a street, or more of a plane of concrete, as two of the buildings on the other side of the road had collapsed. This made a good open area for the PAR units to defend, and when dealing with brainless zombies, the main strike force of the monsters, enemy tactics were rarely considered.

Sarik lead them slowly along the side of a building, carefully keeping out of view of the guards. Usually there was some sort of back entrance or escape route that the boys would use to get in, but he wasn't seeing one.

As he got closer he started to question there being one at all. He started to turn around to signal to the others but on doing so kicked over a pile of rocks. The other two froze where they were. All the guard's heads turned towards the three attempting to sneak up.  
"Get them!" one of the guards yelled.  
Sarik and the others tried to sprint away, but they were cut off by something far worse the living people. There behind them, was one of the many monsters that roamed the streets; a zombie. Its half decomposed corpse shambled towards them slowly and let out a low moan. Flies enveloped its hideous form, and the stench was literally breathtaking. It was either death by the zombie, or if they headed back, capture by the PAR unit. Dealing with the living was always better, especially since the trio had no real weapons. They had survived so far by keeping close to other living people who could defend themselves, or by simply avoiding any contact with the dead at all. Their choice never came to fruition, for as soon as they turned back, they almost fainted from what they saw. Coming towards the guards was a legion walking dead. At least 60 of the monsters were dragging themselves across the open area to feast on the living's flesh. The guards saw the zombie next to the boys and the look of horror on their faces as they turned back. They quickly turned around to engage the mass of zombies.

"Open fire!" cried the man in charge, although none of the others needed any command to begin shooting. They all knew what they were up against, and even though their firepower severely overpowered that of the dead, they were also hopelessly outnumbered. A large 40 mm mounted gun began blasting its way through the front line of the zombies, along with other assortments of weapons the PAR unit had. Zombies began pilling up on the street, but the others simply climbed over them. They were only 30 meters away by now. The guards continued their firing, knowing it was almost pointless by now, but hoping to make at least some dent in the oncoming forces. Another guard grabbed a radio and began calling for backup. Pandemonium broke lose as the first wave of zombies broke through the line. Gunfire went in every direction, blowing apart decayed limbs of the dead and sending small chunks flying.

The three boys didn't wait around for an invitation and ran past the reaching zombie that was behind them and into a building. They searched around and found a door that led into the basement so they could hide until the fighting was over, and hopefully never get found. To their luck in the basement, they found a smashed wall, which lead into a large sewer system walkway. They headed through and ran down the tunnel as fast as they could, trying to escape the inevitable death behind them.


	4. Chapter 1part 3

Jerran arrived at the supply depot site with quite a surprise. Already a battle was in full progress, between a large number of zombies and the PAR unit. Wondering what was going on, and eager to help the living, even if they were enemies, he ordered the group into battle. Jameson, Lira, and Tsubasa wasted no time wading into the sea of bodies from behind and catching them off guard. Fernando and Gerald watcher their backs and blasted away stray zombies. But the most impressive figure in battle was Jerran. None even compared to his skilled slashes and thrusts. He was a blur, cutting down zombie after zombie with ease, seemingly a monster with his katana. He jumped farther into the swarm then any other of the group and easily handled all his foes. Any who had seen Jerran in battle would describe it as a work of art. He had battled many foes, and zombies were one of the weakest. Many things more dangerous then zombies existed in this new world, and it seemed as if Jerran lived off these battles.

The guards were relieved at the sight of the Kents, even despising them as they did. To see another living at this time brought unbelievable joy to their hearts. Most of the men had piled into one of the two small tanks, but half were still left outside. The guards inside tried their best to protect the ones on the outside, but it didn't seem to be helping. With the arrival of the Kents however, the zombie horde was split between its old and new enemies. The dead had no tactics, not knowing to focus on a single group; they simply went for whatever was closer.

Jerran realized what was going on though. He knew that for this many zombies to form an organized attack, they had to be under the influence of a necromancer. These evil wizards were the brains behind the brawn in the army of the undead and monsters. Not many existed that posed a serious threat themselves, but when given a little bit of time, they could cast some seriously deadly spells and raise armies of ex-friends into zombies in only several days. Necromancers could not be far away to control their dead, and in-between slashes Jerran scanned the area for a dark cloaked figure. He quickly found what he was looking for on the top edge of a nearby 3 story building. Cutting off the arms of the zombie in front of him, he dodged the two to his side and sprinted over towards the necromancer, destroying any other zombies in his path. As he approached the building, he slowed and focused for a second to gather his energy. All Kents who meditated enough gained small powers that they could use in battle. Jerran, being the most powerful Kent, had gained several impressive powers: one being able to hover about two feet above ground. He used this, along with a running jump, to propel himself up to the second story window. Grabbing onto that, he pulled himself up and kicked off the sill to get to the third story window, and with a final jump, landed on top of the roof. The necromancer was no fool however, and had seen Jerran coming. He had already almost completed his spell by the time Jerran arrived in front of him. He gave him a twisted smile as he uttered the final word of his spell and disappeared an instant before Jerran's sword smashed into the rooftop where he had been. Being no novice at the tricks of necromancers, Jerran instantly rolled to the side and went into a defensive stance. But seeing no effect of the spell other then the disappearance, Jerran assumed it was a retreating tactic. As he walked back towards the edge of the building however, his thoughts were misspent as he saw the necromancer enter a building near the PAR unit's defensive point. He had no idea what was occurring at this time and was determined to find out. He jumped back off the roof using his unique powers and landed softly into a run after the dread wizard. This one wasn't getting away.


End file.
